The Journey
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Angel's POV, from her first admittance to the hospital to her...well, death. Written a slightly different way, sincere apologies. this is rated T for being intense and a teeny bit of langauge. oneshot. love to you all!


**um. slight angst fic here. the first italics are Angel's "thoughts" and her POV. the normal script is what she hears, and it's Mimi and Collins. The rest of the normal script is Angel, and the end italics are her too. I hope i'm not spoiling the fic for anyone, but i am tired of getting replies from people who want to know who the hell is speaking when. meh.**

**oh, and i promise that updates for my other fics will be forthcoming very soon. my mom's computer crashed and lost all the chapters i had written! gah!**_  
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_Burning...the world is burning up around you…there is pain, searing pain in your body, let it go, let it go…burning worse, hotter and hotter, skin flaring red as a stop sign…stop sign…stop…stop it…STOP IT!_

"Angel!"

"Call 911, this is serious."

"Oh my god, oh my god…"

Someone is crying.

_Voices, sounds…floating in you, through you…more shooting pains, arch your back as the muscles snap taught with agony…moaning from your flaming throat, it hurts too much, too much, you want to die…please let you die…please let it stop…for the love of god, let it stop…more pains…_

"Hold on, chica, don't you dare give up on me now…"

"Move aside, miss, we need to get him to the hospital."

"I'm not leaving Angel!"

"I'm not either!"

"Get in the ambulance, but fast, he's going critical…"

_Grind your teeth together…legs, arms, gone now, unfeeling…too hot to feel anything, too hot to breathe…choking…choking on your own gasps…a hand touching yours, grasping it, you can feel that much…squeeze it hard, crush it into pulp as the pains come again...back's on fire, hurting so badly, so much, more pain...no, too much, pass out, just pass out and let them drag you down into the cooling black…_

"That's it, baby, don't hold back, just put everything into your grip, you can do it…"

"Collins, she's going to break your hand—"

"I don't care, she's stopped crying out, it must be helping."

"Oh god…Angel, girl, you can do this, you can do anything, you can make it…"

"Be quiet, Mimi, be quiet and help me!"

_Can't die, can't pass out…writhing in the flames, body twisting and convulsing…hands on your arms, holding them down, struggling to cool you…something in your stomach crunches, then rushes up your throat…vomiting into the darkness, thrashing as the blood and acid leave you…hands still holding you down, helpless against the brute power of your spasming muscles…and that hand still in yours, a lifeline, squeeze it tighter, harder, let the pains flow into it…_

"But—"

"Only medical staff in the ER, ma'am, I'm sorry. We'll alert you as soon as there's any news."

"No! We have to stay with her…"

_Voices dying away, snuffed out…cool air sizzling against your skin…retching again, more voices, clipped and fast…the pains are coming, worse than ever…no…no…too much pain, pass out, pass out…GO!_

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Open your eyes to a room. Small, pale blue, a window with curtains drawn. Something strange pressing hard onto your mouth and nose and chin…an oxygen mask. Clean air rushes into your mouth as you breathe, and your chest rises and falls slowly. Your head aches and you feel sore and raw. But there is no more pain, no more searing heat.

Feel that hand again, holding yours, stroking your knuckles with a soft thumb. Squeeze it reflexively, hear that gasp as he realizes you're awake. You turn your head to look at him, beautiful as ever, looking tired but happy as your eyes settle on him. He leans forward, closer to you, and kisses your forehead gently, so gently. You close your eyes and savor that feeling of gentleness. With any luck, you'll pass out again and that will be the last thing you remember; his lips on your forehead and the loving brush of his fingers against your hand.

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Days go by. You want to leave the hospital, want to get out and be free again. You want to go a day without having your temperature, blood pressure, T cells, and god knows what else checked by doctors who don't honestly give a damn whether you live or die in the long run. You want to be with Collins and the others as you used to able to: standing on your own two feet, for example, instead of lying in that stupid hospital bed. Most of all, you want to have someone, anyone, greet you without asking how you're feeling. Why should it matter how you're feeling when, whatever the answer, you won't be able to leave this place?

Mimi comes by almost every day. She paints your nails, talks, laughs, reads those terribly written articles in the paper that make both of you laugh. Most of the time, you wish she would stay forever and never leave. But sometimes, you just want her to go…because when she looks at you, you can see her grief shining in her eyes, and that's not what you need. Ever.

Maureen also comes as often as she can. You love when she comes because Maureen has an amazing ability to filter out what Mimi can't; the pain and the apprehension. She'll talk about anything, bring endless little amusements that she uses to make you laugh, and the girl has a singing voice that never fails to make you smile. The only downside to her being there is that you know she loves you and wants to be with you, but she's also there to escape Joanne. It's bittersweet that way.

Mark, Roger, and Joanne visit less than Mimi or Maureen. Mark has told you as much as he can about his movie and how it's coming; you have a sneaking suspicion that he's using his movie work as an excuse to escape your claustrophobic room. It hurts a little, but Mark does what he can. As does Roger, though he offers no excuse. At least he always brings his guitar; he knows how much you love to hear him play. Joanne…well, she's yet another person who has trouble handling the emotions that your "situation" throws at all of them. She says it's work, and you try to believe her. No one ever benefited from being rushed.

Collins almost never leaves. He sleeps in your room with you six nights a week; Maureen will drag him home every once in a while for a shower and some real food. Deep down, you wish he really would _never_ leave. There's never been anyone who you loved as much, who made you feel so safe and so cared for. He turns the hospital into Paradise when he kisses a lesion on your shoulder and whispers that you'll always be beautiful to him, that you'll always be his Angel, that he'll always love you with every part of him. Mimi, who knows you as well as she knows herself, stays over those nights when he's gone. She understands your need to know that you won't be alone while you sleep.

One of the worst things about being sick like this is the nights when you start to slip away into some sort of stupor and your body goes haywire. Like the night when you first came to the hospital; the last thing you remembered was feeling a little tired and lying down to rest before Mimi came over, and then you woke up in a hospital room with an oxygen mask clamped to your face. Likewise, there are nights that you go to sleep and wake up feeling a little unpleasant, but not drastically more so than you did when you first fell asleep. But Collins checks you over worriedly to make sure you're all right, and there are bags under his eyes from being up and caring for you. Mimi begins to stay over on nights that Collins is there too. You know this is for reinforcements.

You worm the stories out of them. They don't want to tell you, don't want to let you know the rate at which your body is being eaten away at. They don't want to, but eventually they tell you about the burning fevers, the convulsions, the shivering, the retching, the senseless muttering of delirium…and what must be pain that you can't imagine, pain that causes you to cry out and scream and nearly gnaw your own fingers off in an attempt to escape from it. You wish that they hadn't told you the minute they do…but you have to know. It's you who's dying, you who'll be long gone while their lives move on.

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It's late at night, later than usual for you to be up. Mimi's just left; she prolonged her exit for so long that Collins pretended to start snoring. You kiss her cheek and lie back on your pillows, trying as hard as you can not to give into the weakness in your joints. The doctors say that resisting it speeds the process. You don't give a shit.

"You should get to sleep, baby…and don't even think about lying to me, I see you yawning," Collins says, raising an eyebrow as he turns to face you from closing the door behind Mimi. You smile and shake your head.

"I'm not sleepy. Get over here." He grins and goes over to you, climbing up beside you and wrapping his arms around your torso. He's so warm and safe and solid. You relax back against him, hands fluttering up to find his. He kisses the curve of your neck, and you finally let your eyes close and your head fall all the way back. He moves beneath you, pulling your body over so that he can embrace you more fully. The last thing you remember before going to sleep is the wonderful warmth of his chest as you press your face to it and slip away.

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_Blurring…_

_The world is blurring…_

_Swirling lights, twinkling in your eyes…_

_Something pulling you away from your body, higher and higher, letting go…_

_Collins…I love you…_

_Collins…_

_Letting go…_

_I love you…_

_I love you…_

_I love……………………_

And the end has been reached.

**waaaahhh...**


End file.
